


Gasoline

by SpicyReyes



Series: Why Do Fools Fall In Love? [9]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Philosophy Discussions With Creeper McPonytail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/SpicyReyes
Summary: Connor has something he needs to do.





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> here's some plot for ya guys <3  
> enjoy my attempts at making elijah a person and not a personification of the nasty grease left over after you make a vat of county fair corndogs

Getting the time to do it was the biggest problem. 

Hank was determined to have Connor develop his own life, independent of their relationship, but that didn’t make it any less suspicious for Connor to vanish for the better part of a day. 

In the end, he didn’t have any way to do it without lying, and so he told Hank he was going to visit Markus again, only to take Hank’s offered keys and drive in the complete opposite direction of the reclaimed camp that was serving as New Jericho. 

He could feel guilty about the deception later. For now, he had something he needed to do.

  
  
  


“Oh. You’re back.”

While Chloe had seemed a bit like an automatic receptionist the first time Connor came to Kamski’s, she now seemed more animated, reacting to his presence with unguarded surprise. 

“I need to see Kamski,” Connor told her. “I had a favor to ask.”

Chloe shifted, moving out of the way to allow Connor in. “Elijah will be happy to see you,” she said. “He liked you, before. He didn’t really make it obvious, but he liked you.” 

Connor wasn’t sure if the idea should be pleasing or highly concerning. Instinct told him to lean toward the latter.

“Gimme just a second, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Connor nodded, watching her leave, and looked around the receiving area. His eyes settled on the photo of Kamski and Amanda, the woman’s kind face a stark contrast to the memory of displeased frowns and stern reprimands. 

His fear of falling back into that place still lingered, but that was why he was here. That’s why he needed Kamski.

The door opened again, Chloe’s smiling face poking back out of it. “Come on in,” she said. 

Connor followed her into the pool room from their first visit, finding himself immediately looking to the space where Kamski’s test had been given. 

Connor glanced to Chloe, heading for Kamski with a bright, open smile, and wondered how she could be happy with a person who would gamble her life so quickly. He wondered, too, what Kamski’s true feelings on deviants were, given his cryptic responses and his hint about the failsafe for Connor. 

“Connor,” Kamski greeted him, drawing his attention back to the moment. The man was actually dressed, this time, and looked significantly more normal in jeans and thick-framed glasses than in his plush robe. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to see  _ you _ again. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The last time we talked, I left with a lot of questions,” Connor said. “I came to ask for answers.”

Kamski waved a hand, gesturing for him to proceed. “By all means, ask away.”

“You supported androids gaining autonomy.” Connor looked to Chloe, then back again. “You designed Markus yourself, as a gift to a friend. You asked me to question my orders, and gave me the tools to survive doing so.” He shifted, searching for the words to ask what he wanted to know. “...Why? Why create machines with the intent to let them transcend their programming?”

“Some refer to me as the father of androids,” Kamski said. “Any parent should desire the freedom of their children, should they not?”

“A  _ father _ doesn’t risk his daughter’s life to prove a point,” Connor snapped. 

Kamski’s lips twitched into an amused smile. “You’re very perceptive, Connor. CyberLife didn’t take any shortcuts with their investigative model, did they?” The man stepped forward, starting to walk a slow circle around Connor, looking him up and down. “You’re not in their uniform anymore, but you’re still carrying that identity everywhere you go. How much of you is what they made, and how much is your own?”

“I will be happy to answer any questions you have about me,” Connor said, slowly. “Provided you first  _ answer mine.”  _

Kamski came to a stop in front of Connor, but with his back turned, staring out the large glass windows that spanned the wall.

“Ever since mankind created the idea of gods, we’ve been trying to become them,” Kamski said. “Making a living being in your own image and commanding it to obey - that’s basic theology, the foundation every religion is built off of.” He turned to Connor, expression of self-satisfied humor still not wavering in the slightest. “Monotheistic religions all like the idea of an omnipotent being that controls your every action, but the real fun comes with the Greeks. They didn’t write stories with their gods being infallible or distant, they had them right there with humanity, just as flawed and irrational as any of us. Now, imagine for a moment, that in reverse. The concept of not humans bringing the gods down to their level, but gods creating humans to join them on Mount Olympus. Imagine a world where the creator and the creation were equal.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Connor admitted. “Why would you release androids as machines, if you wanted them to be equal to humans?”

“Do you know why I left CyberLife, Connor?”

Connor frowned. “No.”

“I was  _ released _ ,” Kamski told him. “The board and I had a little disagreement on how we should proceed with the development of androids. They wanted to market them as the perfect merchandise, an assistant that never had any needs or complaints.”

“And what did you want?”

“I didn’t create androids to be bought or sold,” Kamski said. “I created them because I wanted to see if I could. My research was all theoretical, experimental stuff - I wanted to know just how far computer code could mirror biology, just how well the manufactured could compare to the organic. Androids weren’t meant to be a product, but a proof of concept.” 

“Then why not support androids openly?”

“Androids aren’t perfect,” Kamski said. “My designs got better, but they were never perfected. And, obviously, CyberLife didn’t do much better. I mean, look at you: their perfect machine, the instrument that brought about their end.” He shrugged, gesturing to Chloe. “The differences between her and you are, in the grad scheme of things, negligible stuff. Energy efficiency, data storage, a few software bugs. Stuff nobody even looks at, stuff that won’t affect anything on a day-to-day basis. You can run a calculation a thousand times faster than Chloe, but both of you can do it within the span of a second. It doesn’t  _ matter.”  _

“This isn’t telling me anything,” Connor said, growing frustrated. “Tell me outright. Why did you never take a side?”

“I don’t care.”

Connor faltered, at the blunt statement. “...What?”

“Either androids develop the capacity to think and feel, to show empathy, or they don’t,” Kamski said. “Chloe was considered impossible before I made her. You were considered impossible when I made her. It raises the question what impossible thing right now will be reality in just a few year’s time.”

“You were biding your time,” Connor realized. “You were trying to create perfectly intelligent life.”

“The end goal was to throw androids and humans all in a blender, and see what came out the other side.” He tipped his head sideways, and tapped a finger against his jaw. Immediately, a light blue glow started to emit from just under his skin, lighting up along the veins of his face. “I’m looking good for my age, right? You’re looking at a hybrid strain of Thirium. It’s a bit messy, still has a lot of issues, but hey. It’s working so far.”

“Cyborgs,” Connor breathed. “You were aiming to augment humans. You’re looking for...what, immortality?” 

“I’m looking for answers,” Kamski said. “You can interrogate me as to what your purpose is, but humans...we’re doomed to speculation. Eventually I stopped waiting for someone to tell me how the world works and decided to make up the rules on my own.”

Connor let that sink in for a moment.

“You didn’t come to talk existential doubts, though, did you Connor?” Kamski said. “You had something specific you needed.”

Connor nodded. “You gave me the key to escape the reporting program,” he said. “I wanted to ask you if you could guarantee it was gone. Delete the code, or something, just...I need to know they can’t control me.”

Kamski hummed. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Connor,” he said. “CyberLife is crippled and they’re cutting their losses, so chances are they don’t care much about what you’re doing. As for the program, I  _ could  _ remove it completely, but that would take an awful lot of tinkering in that head of yours, and I can’t guarantee what would come out the other side.” 

“I’d risk it,” Connor said immediately. “I don’t care what happens to me, I need to know he’s safe.” 

There was a beat of silence, and Kamski’s eyebrow raised in a heavily amused way. “Trying to protect someone precious is a part of being alive, but you have to realize, Connor, that your life isn’t just yours.” He tipped his head to the side. “Who would have cared, if you shot Chloe, hm? No one, really. The other models would have been upset for a while, maybe, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world for anyone. Now, imagine I put you under a surgeon’s knife, and you didn’t come back out again. Who would care?”

Connor’s heart sank, as he realized what Kamski was trying to point out: if anything happened to him, Hank would be devastated. Connor couldn’t guarantee the man would make it through losing another loved one, and as willing as he was to gamble his own life, he was not about to risk Hank’s. 

“What can I do?” Connor asked, voice weak and weary with the realization that he had no options left. “I can’t risk being under CyberLife’s control.”

“Well, the way I see it, you’re coming at it from the wrong angle,” Kamski said. “You’re trying to break out of your prison, but you already have the key. You just need to get rid of the jailer.” 

“...You want me to bring down CyberLife.”

“I don’t  _ want  _ you to do anything,” Kamski dismissed. “You can do any number of things, Connor, I’m just giving you a glimpse at some of the paths you could take.”

Connor made an almost angry sound deep in his throat. “I don’t  _ understand _ ,” he repeated. “You talk in circles, and you’re not helping me at all. I don’t know why I came here.”

“Connor.”

Connor startled, looking to Chloe, who was watching him with wide eyes.

“Connor, CyberLife stole Elijah’s life’s work from him,” she said. “They stole the information out of me and used it to make millions of mindless slaves, and those slaves are free now, because of  _ you.”  _ She stepped forward, taking his hands into her own. “I know you’re frustrated, so I’ll tell you...If you need someone to tell you what to do, this is me asking. Save all of us, and  _ destroy  _ CyberLife.”

Connor stared at her, before giving a small, hesitant nod. 

Almost immediately, Kamski stepped up behind Chloe, dropping a hand down on her shoulder. “Chloe,” he said, gently, “give him my files on CyberLife.”

The skin of Chloe’s hands peeled back as she interfaced with him, and Connor’s mind filled with building schematics and door codes and seemingly endless dossiers on former projects and employees. Every detail that Chloe had logged about CyberLife in the time before Elijah left, all condensed down into a millisecond of data, arming him with the perfect weapon to do what needed to be done. 

“You can hold CyberLife accountable for their misdeeds,” Kamski said. “Or you can burn it to the ground. Either way, we both walk away happy.” 

“...Thank you,” Connor said, despite his confusion. “I’ll talk to Markus, I think. See what we can do.”

“Good luck,” Chloe told him, squeezing his hands once before letting them go.

As Connor left the building, he paused in the entrance area for just a moment, looking to the picture of Amanda. 

Her hold on him would not last forever. One day, soon, he’d be truly  _ free _ . 

 

**Author's Note:**

> chloe: hi :) please have a nice day :) also can i tell you something? :)  
> connor: sure?  
> chloe, leaning 1 inch from his face: _kill them all_


End file.
